John F. Kennedy may have written “Profiles in Courage” but Ukraine’s Volodymyr Zelenskyy has shown us what courage looks like. The Ukrainian president’s stand against Russia’s onslaught is a reminder that true leadership at its core is a performance that inspires and rallies. Such performances become the basis of legend.
Too often we think of performance in negative terms, as something fake or insincere. This is unfortunate. Performance is how a person behaves — or, more accurately, how they choose to behave in certain situations. Performance reveals character (or lack thereof) because it is fundamentally about choice.
There are compelling examples of leadership performance in American history: George W. Bush with a bullhorn in hand in the aftermath of the Sept. 11 attacks; the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. marching down streets as racists hurl epithets and bricks; Indigenous women, men and children standing up to and fighting “settlers” attempting to evict them from their ancestral lands.
There are also distressing moments when performance reveals the many lacks of a person: lack of substance, lack of ethics, lack of morality. Think of politicians who chose (and still choose) to lie to their constituents rather than accept the results of a fair, free election. The folks, who are now grandparents and great grandparents, who hurled racist epithets at Black schoolchildren seeking an education during the civil rights era. Adolf Hitler hiding in a bunker.
As a cultural historian, I write and lecture about the role of performance in everyday life. I focus on how people, including leaders, act in our society. I have chronicled a range of these brave acts. U.S. Rep. Bobby Rush wearing a hoodie on the House floor to call attention to the killing of Trayvon Martin; Muhammad Ali refusing to take a single step in a draft ceremony in protest of the Vietnam War; and innumerable people taking to the streets to declare that Black Lives Matter are a few examples.
There is a growing number of scholars who write about these performances of everyday life. Influenced by the writings of sociologist Erving Goffman, anthropologist Victor Turner, philosopher Michel de Certeau among others, they center the theater of social action. For nearly a decade, Paige McGinley has been writing about how civil rights leaders rehearsed their demonstrations in advance of protests at Woolworth’s lunch counter in Greensboro, North Carolina, and on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. Diana Taylor has brilliantly written about the activism of the mothers of the disappeared during Argentina’s “Dirty War.” There’s even a handbook, “The Oxford Handbook of Politics and Performance,” which chronicles everything from picket lines to presidential posture (how JFK managed his “bad back”).
What is unique about Zelenskyy, the former actor who became president of the second-largest country in Europe, is his keen understanding of the power of performance. He knows that his visibility matters. His refusal to leave his country is significant. He is aware that his voice resonates across and beyond his country. His words to the U.S. — “The fight is here; I need ammunition, not a ride” — just might be the coolest line ever spoken by a president.
The world is finally — after unconscionable delay — responding to Zelenskyy’s plea. It is a response inspired by his performance.
What makes Zelenskyy’s stand, his words, his very being so effective is their sincerity. We’ve all seen presidents remove their ties, roll up their sleeves and grab a beer to project a “common man” vibe. Those enactments often ring hollow. In contrast, Ukraine’s leader stands apart. There is a clarity of purpose in which he seems prepared not only to stand alongside but also to die for his people.
We are also witnessing a performance of martyrdom. We have seen this before. MLK telling his listeners, “I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land.” Or Todd Beamer on United Airlines Flight 93 declaring, “Let’s roll.”
These performances become the stuff of legend. More often than not, we encounter them as fiction. There’s Harrison Ford combating terrorists in the film “Air Force One”: “Get off my plane!” There is also painter Emanuel Leutze’s 1851 imagining of George Washington upright on a boat, confidently crossing the Delaware to battle the British. It is rare to see such actions — cinematic in scale — occurring in our everyday world.
There are tremendous profiles of courage by Black, brown and Indigenous leaders throughout history that still await the spotlight. History tends to be written by the victor — as we’re witnessing with the ongoing efforts to recast the U.S. Capitol insurrection as legitimate and peaceful political discourse. The stands of leaders against colonizing forces need to be rediscovered and told.
Zelenskyy reminds us of the power of performance and the importance of the principled stand. President Ronald Reagan, a former actor, stood up to Soviet aggression and skillfully communicated to the world at large. Zelenskyy has claimed this mantle with more gusto and far worse odds.
He is David facing Goliath. His performance will become legend.
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ABOUT THE WRITER
Harvey Young is dean of the College of Fine Arts at Boston University. His research focuses on performance and the experience of race.
